It all started with an acute pain in my stomach. I felt nauseatic, lost my appetite (yes I really did!) and felt sick very often. A coupla days later, I threw up in the middle of the night. Our batch's Docs came over to have a look and gimme some medicines. However, the next day I was sick again. But I dreaded going to the Institute doc.
Ask me why? Every time you go to him, irrespective of what problem you have, he will first play the game of 20 questions with you, and then irrespective of what answers you gave, he will give you 3 different coloured nameless tablets. I could not bring myself to trust him, so after a number of colourless tablets and references to other doctors and lotsa tests, I went to the best hospital in Ahmedabad: SAL hospital.
I met up with the doctor, explained my situation, and he diagnosed enlarged spleen and accordingly prescribed some medicines. After consuming them for 2 days and not feeling any better, I returned, to find that he was not there. So another doctor had a look and diagnosed that its actually viral infection and gave me a different set of medicines. I took them for another 2 days, but, as you might have guessed, I was sick as ever. I was missing classes in the beginning of the term, and when one day I had an unbearable pain, I knew it : something had to be done, and done quick. So I went for the third time. This time I insisted on a good Gastro doctor, not just anyone available. So I met Dr. Tripathi: a smart, goodlooking middle-aged doctor. I felt better already! :)
I told him about the situation and after prolonged discussion he said " We have to look into what is wrong with you Aditi, and so I recommend that you stay with us here for a couple of days. Nothing major, just a few tests and you will be free to go in 2-3 days."
And so it began. My stay at SAL. I changed into the hospital clothes and shifted to my room: a double room which I shared with a lady who had just undergone Hysterectomy. She was a sad sight, and her husband was a quiet, morose man. I was there at 12 noon, and was beginning to feel hungry. But they kept me hungry cuz they wanted to take some tests. Finally at 4 I got a sandwich to eat. And at 7 I got my dinner: 1 lil cup of dal, chawal, sabzi, 2 tiniest rotis, exact 2 pieces of cucumber. And that was all I had.
But my worst moment ever was the time when they inserted the Drip . Now why one earth did they have to put one in the first place, I dunno. I am able, on regular diet, and don't need one. "Doctor's Instructions" is all what the nurses said, while they prepared to insert the drip. I was sweating buckets all this while. All my life I have been dead scared of needles. I hate the very thought of any needle piercing my skin, so much that if I am made to get an injection, I cry my eyes out... I mean it! And here they were... inserting a huge needle in my arms... I lost all senses and started to cry and beg for mercy. But these nurses I tell you: they have no compassion: they just laughed at me and caught hold of me and put that darned thing in my arm!!
After a lot of hullabaloo, things quietened down. Many of my friends came to visit me. Just when things were looking ok, the needle in my drip moved, and instead of the glucose going in, blood from my veins started coming out in the tube!! I screeched and screamed, and Paro, who was with me, lost her senses too! Both of panicked and only when the nurse came and fixed it, did we settle down. We could see how much of a nuisance this was for the lady and her husband, so I changed my room in the middle of the night.
The next day I was to go for X Ray and ultrasound. I got up and was ready to walk out when they insisted I sit on the wheelchair. Wheelchair? I told them it was stupid, cuz I am able to walk and all. But they did not listen: they made me sit on it while they wheeled me thru the corridor, into the lift, down to the clinic. And all this while, I, with my coloured hair, painted nails, flower wali chappals, sat on the wheelchair, grinning away while people around me stared.
And so the story continued. Every day they would start streaming in at 6 in the morning, gimme injections, medicines, food.... and people from my college would keep coming and going. The best part of the stay was that I was perfectly healthy, and could move around, not much pains... and yes... lotsa CHOCOLATES!!! (Not to forget... no classes/quizzes/studies for 3 days!!) But this also earned me the title of "Fraud Patient"... people came to my room, and were shocked to see me smiling, moving around etc. They actually said " FIDOE, behave like a patient. Lie down with a sad face." But I just could not do that. I would talk, watch Friends on the lappy, read books... chitchat with the nurses (they taught me gujja n I taught them hindi)...
But there was a problem,: Every time someone asked what happened to me, I would not know what to say. Finally after a million tests they said that my liver was malfunctioning. Later they told me that some medicine I was taking, had resulted in this malfunction, and they asked me to discontinue that "DRUG". So whenever I told this to someone, they immediately quipped "FIDOE stop drinking and taking drugs!!" Bahut khinchayi kari. They put my screaming-at-the-sight-of-the-drip incident on Dbab. But all in all, my friends were a great help, and did a lot for me. And I am very thankful to them for that.
that's all... After 3 days I paid up the hospi and came back on Friday, back to the rigor: which started with the WAC report due on Saturday! Tho hospital trips are usually not very nice, I sure did enjoy this one!